


Cathedra

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1000-3000 words, 1000-5000 Words, Additional Warnings Apply, Baltimore, Blow Job, Catholic, Challenge: Porn Paragraph-a-Thon, Church Sex, Dirty Talk, Incest, M/M, Porn, Roleplay, Wincest - Freeform, dirtybadwrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-06
Updated: 2010-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:07:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the basilica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cathedra

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the prompt "[Sam/Dean; stained glass window](http://technosage.livejournal.com/258921.html?thread=6144105#t6144105)" over at the [Porn Paragraph-a-Thon](http://technosage.livejournal.com/258921.html), but it ran too long. I know you're all shocked.

"No stained glass," Dean says, looking around. "Weird."

It's true: The basilica is a graceful building, with airy cream interiors and pristine white pews, but with its wide aisles and the columned sunlit rotunda that shelters the altar, it looks more like a place where Plato and his fellow students might sit at Socrates's feet, and not so much like a church. The image comes to Sam after a moment, another remnant of Art History: Raphael's _The School at Athens_. The light is the same, and the generous arched spaces.

Sam wanders up front to look at the painting on the rotunda's ceiling. Dean is a few feet behind him, and Sam sees his brother's eyes fall on the bishop's seat a few yards (_yards_—that's how big this place is) from the altar. It's surrounded by heavy maroon curtains, topped with an equally heavy sconce hanging from a dark red dome that, honestly, looks like the lid to some kind of fancy canister. The seat itself is a plush armchair, also a deep crimson, accented with gold. Sam turns to look at the ceiling, but Dean pulls him away, nods toward the seat. "Got an idea," he says, grinning, eyebrows raised in a way that Sam knows means unequivocal trouble.

"Dean, just let me take a look at this; then we can go down to the crypts—"

"Ghost isn't gonna be there until after dark. Come on." Dean pushes Sam into the chair and drops to his knees.

"Dean, what—no! Somebody might see!" It's a Tuesday and nowhere near Mass time, but somebody could come in to clean or to set up, and Sam and Dean are front and nearly center where the damn archbishop sits.

Dean gets up and pulls the gold-colored tassels that hold the curtains back. The heavy drapes swirl closed, and Sam and Dean are suddenly alone in the almost-darkness. Dean slides his hands up Sam's thighs, and when he speaks, Sam can feel his breath even through the layers of clothing. "I think maybe you're the novice priest, just took your vows, and I've been here a while and I've never seen anything like you—" He undoes Sam's fly one button at a time, all the time rubbing at Sam's hardening cock with the heel of his hand. When he's finished, he pauses to breathe close and hot over the front of Sam's briefs. "Bet you've never had it before, country boy straight from the farm, don't know what my mouth's gonna do to you—"

"Dean," Sam groans, and his hands find his brother's short hair.

"Bad enough if they catch us, but if they catch us up here in the archbishop's seat? Man, we're so dead. We'll have to whip ourselves extra hard." He pulls down the waistband of Sam's briefs and runs his tongue over the head of Sam's cock. "Although I wouldn't mind if you took care of that for me."

"Dean, God," Sam gasps, dazed by Dean's mouth so close to where he wants it, by the sudden image of Dean's ass bared for Sam to whip, by the fact that they're doing this in a freaking cathedral.

Dean replies by swallowing Sam down as far as he'll go.

Sam's moan probably echoes through the entire nave. He traces Dean's ears, the shape of his cheekbones, and tries not to thrust up, but his hips are jerking, and Dean's happy, greedy noises don't encourage his self-control. Dean pulls back, and even in the dark, Sam can make out a smirk. "It's all right, country boy, you can fuck my mouth if you want to. Come on, put those big hands on my head—"

And Sam does, biting back a cry as Dean takes him all the way down. Sam watches his cock sliding between Dean's lips, sees Dean's eyes fall closed, and wonders whether he's touching himself. Hopes he is, hopes that being on his knees to suck Sam's cock has Dean so turned on that he can't help it, has to rub himself through his jeans, maybe even open them up so that he can get a hand around himself. For a moment Sam imagines Dean in a collar and cassock, kneeling between Sam's legs as if in penance, as if surrendered, and that thought, right there, is enough to send him over the edge. He yanks a hand up from Dean's head so that he can muffle his own sounds in the crook of his elbow as he comes, long and overwhelming and intense. Sam's brain, then and for a few perfect moments after, is a crystalline blank, cleared of everything but pleasure and its aftermath.

When Sam comes to, Dean is still crouched in front of him. Sam reaches for him, pulls him into a kiss. It's awkward, with Dean leaning over him, but Sam doesn't care, and he licks the taste of himself out of his brother's mouth. "Did you come?"

Dean takes Sam's hand and puts it over his cock, lets Sam feel how hard he still is. "Waiting until I fuck you, baby boy. Gonna put a pillow under your hips, spread your legs, get you all slick with my fingers until you're begging me for it. Bet you've never had that either, am I right?"

"I was waiting for you," Sam whispers. He stands up, and he can't help it, has to kiss Dean again while they're still hidden behind the secrecy of the curtains. He could stand here and kiss Dean all day, but they do need to go scope out the crypts so that they can come back tonight and lay the ghost of a cranky archbishop to rest—the actual reason that they're back in Baltimore.

Sam twitches the curtains apart just enough to peer through them: The nave, fortunately, is empty. They make a quick job of tying the curtains back; then they find their way down to the crypts.

Luckily, they've got a few hours until it's dark. Once they're done here, Sam plans to use them all.

**Author's Note:**

> [The basilica in question](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilica_of_the_National_Shrine_of_the_Assumption_of_the_Blessed_Virgin_Mary) is a real place, with the longest name ever. And [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_School_of_Athens)'s the painting Sam was thinking of.


End file.
